


Trouble Among the Dunes

by quicksiluers



Category: Aladdin (2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Drama, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Canonical Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksiluers/pseuds/quicksiluers
Summary: An unexpected trip to a neighboring kingdom forces Jafar and Hakim to confront each other in ways that neither expected. A dire situation leaves them stranded with no help, clawing their way back to Agrabah before time runs out for one of them.





	Trouble Among the Dunes

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give everyone a heads up at the top before reading. There are some descriptions of violence, blood, and injury that if you don't like...you skip if you don't feel comfortable. They aren't very graphic but I thought it would be safe to throw out a warning!
> 
> Also, age-wise in this story I would say that Jafar is 21 and Hakim is 25. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“The journey is not long, my prince. I don’t need multiple guards to accompany me.”

There were times, such as these, that Jafar wished he wasn’t overseen by Prince Hamed. He was grateful to the man. Bringing him from the streets of Agrabah to the magnificent walls of the palace was nothing to be ungrateful about. He cherished it every day he woke up. Gazing out the window, while feeding Iago, brought him the perspective of what he had gained as he overlooked the city. 

It wasn’t the prince alone bringing him to the palace that had brought him to the position he was in. Hours of reading, familiarizing himself with the laws of the land, completing any task that was given to him. He made it evident to anyone who saw him by the prince’s side that he deserved the position he held as his personal messenger and confidant. 

But there were instances that even his patience could be tested. 

The current disagreement between himself and Prince Hamed made that evident. They stood together within the prince’s study, which was decorated with books and artifacts from the countries the prince had traveled to. Hamed was a well-traveled man in his youth, acting in his father’s place when he was unable to make journeys to neighboring kingdoms. In the past few years, that had become impossible between his family and the unsettled situation of his father’s rule. Which left Jafar with the task. 

Hamed sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair as he overlooked the map they had been discussing. His gaze flickered up to Jafar’s, sighing. “I can’t have you traveling alone Jafar, you know this.” His tone was tired as if they had argued the point to exhaustion. 

“It’s only Rarasin, my prince. That is no more than a two-day trip,” Jafar countered, pointing to the map, “it’s not as if I am traveling to Zeidan.” He dragged his finger across the map slowly to prove his point, tapping on the faraway kingdom. 

“I can’t have you riding out there alone,” Hamed argued, raising his hand as Jafar went to speak, “I know the trip is short...and I trust that you can do this. But with the reports of these small ambushes recently…”

The desert sands were never the safest place. There was always the possibility of an attack, getting lost out in the dunes, or being trapped within a sand storm. But they were risks that Jafar was familiar with. He had traveled to a number of countries, ones much farther then Rarasin, with no incident. 

The reports from their scouts had been unsettling. Shirabad, their long-time ally, hadn’t taken kindly to some choice words that were used by Agrabah’s sultan to describe their kingdom. From what could be gleaned from the reports, there were unmarked soldiers along the border of Agrabah attacking random merchants. It had left Hamed in a small panic, trying to alert any travelers and arguing with the sultan into the early hours of the morning. The incidents had slowed down but still left the older man concerned. 

“How about a compromise?” 

One of Jafar’s eyebrows rose up slightly. “A compromise?”

The prince nodded, waving his hand toward him. “Yes. You can still make the journey to Rarasin, delivering my message and the book to their sultan. Instead of the camels, you can take the horses,” he explained, the young man nodding along, “and you take one guard with you. But he is one of our best.”

Jafar felt his heart skip for a moment. “Who did...you have in mind?”

“Hakim.”

The name brought a storm of emotions over Jafar. A confusing storm, pulling at him in every direction. Hakim was one of the few people he spoke with on a daily basis within the palace. He was a few years his senior, but that wasn’t an issue between the two of them. It actually brought a different perspective that Jafar appreciated. Quiet and reserved, but with a sense of loyalty that he admired. They had been training together almost every day. Jafar wasn’t as skilled with a sword, but he knew he would need to be if he was to travel. Hakim provided the teaching he needed to improve his skills. 

Warmth flushed over him as he thought about the other man. It had been embarrassing, the argument they had gotten into early in the week. Over something as trivial as a sparring match. He knew he had overreacted. Hakim had caught him out of position and Jafar ended up on his back, Hakim leaning over him with a dagger in his hand. They had been too close and before he could think properly, he pushed the older man away from him and turned the situation into an argument. 

He hadn’t seen or heard from Hakim since that incident. 

A strained smile stretched over Jafar’s face. “I...don’t see a problem with that at all my prince,” he could feel his teeth grinding together with each word, “if it is alright with Hakim, of course.”

“I do not see it being an issue. I will go speak with him myself,” Hamed smiled, rising from his chair. Walking around the desk, he motioned for Jafar to follow him, “I would want you two to leave as early as possible. Tomorrow would be the best day to go.”

The pair walked out of the room, Jafar closing it behind them, and made their way down the corridor. The prince’s study was in one of the quietest parts of the palace. Exactly how the prince had designed it. It allowed him to escape, he explained to Jafar when he had asked years ago. The palace was extremely active and could become overwhelming at times, even for a prince. He would take the small moments he could away from the controlled chaos. 

The prince was speaking, but it was all muffled for Jafar. His mind was racing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Hakim to accompany him. He was the best choice for the journey of course. But these confusing emotions were driving him insane. He didn’t understand why his heart sped up when he was with Hakim or why he would become flush at the smallest touch or gesture from the other man. When they had been so close while training, that was his breaking point. He had gone back to his room and paced for an unnecessary amount of time trying to make sense of it all. 

When had being with Hakim become a taxing experience for him?

“Ah, Hakim! There you are.”

Jafar froze at the prince’s voice, bringing him from his thoughts. They were in the main hall, servants darting from side to side to light the fires and candles for the oncoming night. Across the expansive room, Hakim turned at the prince’s voice. Confusion briefly crossed his face, eyes focused on the prince. He hadn’t spared Jafar a glance. 

The prince waved his hand and Hakim nodded, dismissing the other guard he was speaking with. Jafar couldn’t help but notice the small additions to his guard’s uniform as he walked toward them. The red and orange fabrics worked nicely with the golden plate over his chest. Though the helmet he and the other guards had to wear remained ridiculous to him. Hakim looked better without it. 

Jafar cursed under his breath, disregarding the sidelong look the prince gave him. Why had he even thought of that?

Hakim stopped before them, bowing to his waist. “My prince. Is there something that you needed?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. I have a small favor,” Hamed conceded, motioning to Jafar, “There’s a message that has to be personally delivered to the sultan of Rarasin but unfortunately, I can’t go. Jafar is set to make a quick trip for me with this message tomorrow morning. I was hoping that you could accompany him.”

Hakim’s dark eyes flickered over him briefly before moving back to the prince. Jafar could feel his muscle tensing. The entire situation was uncomfortable for him. The familiar ease that the two had shared seemed like a distant memory. 

“I do not believe that would be an issue. I will have to report it to my father.”

“I will deal with your father,” Hamed smiled, brushing off the comment, “I appreciate this on such short notice. I’ll go speak with him now while the two of you discuss?”

Before Jafar could respond, the prince was walking away from them. “Stop by my study later to discuss the message Jafar,” Hamed instructed, waving to the two of them as he passed through the hall doors. He disappeared around the corner, leaving the two of them alone.

“Of course my prince…” Jafar muttered with a sigh, shaking his head. Even when the prince requested time to relax, he was still on the move. 

“Not allowed to go alone?” 

Jafar jumped, turning toward Hakim. When had the other man gotten so close? His expression was unreadable, aside from the brief amusement that flashed in his eyes. 

“I tried to explain to him that a guard wasn’t needed for such a short trip…,” Jafar shrugged, discreetly leaning away from him, “But the issues along the border have left him troubled.”

Hakim nodded. “It’s better to be cautious. I will go to the stables, inform them that we’ll need two horses,” his gaze flickered over Jafar, the young man trying not to squirm underneath it, “is there anything else?”

There was much more. This exhausting tension between them was draining Jafar. He wanted to apologize, forget everything that happened. Push his unnecessary emotions down until they couldn’t bother him anymore. He had thought that he had buried these things deep when he was on the streets. The whole issue had been an overreaction on his part. Was he overreacting? Hakim didn’t seem to be phased at all. 

The stoic-ness of his expression had changed into one of confusion, which he found odd. 

“Jafar?” Hakim’s voice was soft, his hand reaching out for Jafar’s arm. His fingers brushed lightly against his elbow and he panicked. 

Jafar flushed, embarrassed, and stepped out of his reach. An emotion crossed over Hakim’s eyes that he couldn’t place, but it had left as quickly as it came. “Yes, sorry,” he stuttered, cursing himself for a lack of composure, “There is nothing else. I will...gather my things for the journey.”

The older man watched him with no response. It was impossible for Jafar to read him. Even in all the time they had known one another, Hakim was a puzzle that he couldn’t solve. It was never more evident than at this moment, his dark brown eyes freezing Jafar to his spot. 

After a moment, Hakim sighed. “Then I will see you in the morning.” His voice was detached, which alarmed him. The words Jafar wanted to say were stuck in his throat as he watched Hakim walk away, leaving him alone in the hall. 

He felt jumbled, out of his element. Nothing in the past few days was going his way. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Any chance he could, Jafar over-prepared for a situation in case of moments like these. 

The frustration of everything around him was building. These distractions couldn’t be apparent when he met the sultan of Rarasin. The matter the prince was sending him on was of the utmost importance. He needed to make a strong impression. Stumbling over his words or being distracted as he had been over the past days was unacceptable. 

Hakim coming along would make dealing with that more difficult. The source of all his confusion. 

Jafar turned on his heel and walked out of the corridor, back toward the prince’s study. He would wait for him there and try to clear his mind. The journey was short. He could overthink everything when he returned to Agrabah. Apologize to Hakim over the ridiculous argument. Sort out his bothersome emotions. 

Once they returned, Jafar would lay all his troubles to rest. 

* * *

Rarasin was a small kingdom to the north of Agrabah. It was far enough inland that it wasn’t considered a port city, but they used the ocean when they could to send out their goods to neighboring kingdoms. 

The quickest way to travel was through the desert. The route to the kingdom wasn’t a difficult one, with mountains along the way at points to provide cover at night or much-needed shade in the day. From Agrabah to Rarasin, it was three or four days by camel. But with the horses that the prince had provided them, it had only taken two. It was one of the only places that the horses could make the journey to without becoming over exhausted or dehydrated. 

Jafar pulled at his horse’s reigns lightly, the animal stopping in its tracks. The city gates were only a mile or so away. There were two guards he could see posted at the entrance, though from this distance he could be mistaken. He sighed, wiping at his forehead for the hundredth time to rid himself of the sweat building under his turban. 

“If you wore a lighter color, the sun wouldn’t bother you as much.”

Striding up next to him, Hakim’s smooth voice couldn’t hide the amusement in his expression. It was a topic the two discussed to exhaustion. Was it odd that Jafar liked to travel the desert in black clothing? Perhaps, but it wasn’t a fact that bothered him. There were times it was hard to deal with, but he had grown used to the added heat that came along with the choice of fabric. 

It wasn’t as if Hakim had much to argue on. Jafar eyed up his companion's outfit, donned with the traditional golden plate, multiple layers of white and colored fabrics, and chainmail underneath it all. 

“It’s not a bother, as much as you think it would be,” Jafar countered, rolling his eyes, “but if you would like to continue to delude yourself, be my guest.”

A shadow above caught Jafar’s eye and he looked up with a smile. Familiar red feathers circled overhead, crying out a few times before sailing towards them. With an extra flap, Iago settled on the familiar spot on his master’s shoulder. It had taken some time for him and his feathered friend to work together, years almost, but Jafar finally found a use for the parrot. “The sultan knows we are coming?” 

“Waiting at the palace!” Iago squawked, digging his claws into Jafar’s shoulder. He tried not to wince. There were still some things he and the parrot needed to work on.

“Shall we?” Hakim gestured toward the gates. 

Nodding, Jafar clicked his tongue and tugged on the reins, his horse galloping forward through the sands. As much as he enjoyed visiting other kingdoms, this was a matter that he wanted to finish quickly. Riding through the desert for the past two days brought an unsettling feeling over him. Nothing had happened, but something in the back of his mind didn’t sit well with him. 

He was letting the prince’s worries bleed over. Between himself and Hakim, nothing could happen. 

The other matter plaguing Jafar left him, inwardly, in a state of panic. As he had packed a few nights before, Jafar thought about the emotions that had been causing him distress. The realization that had come over him as gazed at a dagger that Hakim had gifted him left him terrified. The idea of Hakim being on this journey with him only brought dread. He would have to pretend that everything was fine. But he could feel the cracks on his facade slowly pulling apart. 

As they approached, sand kicking up behind them, the gates of the city opened. The guards by the entrance nodded to them as both Jafar and Hakim’s horses were brought to a trot. “Welcome. There will be a guide to bring you to the palace.” The guard who spoke caught Jafar’s eye, a jagged scar running down his cheek. His eyes as well, which glinted with a green he hadn’t seen before. The man’s gaze unsettled him and he gripped the reins tighter. 

“Thank you.” He replied tensely, nodding to the guards before passing through the gates. The area was mostly abandoned, with a few passerby's staring at them. Jafar shot Hakim a look, who just shrugged and turned his head. There wasn’t much to speak off in this part of the city, aside from some beautiful flowers that lined the buildings in certain spots. Compared to Agrabah, the streets and buildings seemed simple. 

A distant figure waved at them, catching Jafar’s eye, and he steered his horse in the man’s direction. Hakim followed closely behind. Moving closer, the figure was a young man dressed in a mixture of deep blues and whites, a smile stretching across his face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to the gate when you arrived,” the man apologized, coming up alongside Jafar’s horse. Jafar could feel Hakim’s glare on his back, though he knew it wasn’t for him. “You arrived much sooner than the sultan expected.”

“We were riding a touch faster than we normally would,” Jafar’s voice was relaxed, smiling as he explained, “The horses help with that. I hope it doesn’t cause too much trouble?”

The young man shook his head, “No trouble at all sir. Let me show you the way.”

As they moved further into the city, the busier the streets became. The streets were lined with merchants and stalls, not unlike the ones in Agrabah. It didn’t seem that the items varied as much, but that was to be expected. Being a port city brought along with it hundreds of different people and cultures, creating a diverse bazaar with new items anytime a new kingdom visited. Rarasin didn’t have that luxury, but it didn’t seem to bother the people. They stole a quick glance at them as they passed through and the next moment brushed them off. Acting like it was a normal day in the bustling market place. 

The street opened up to a spacious area where a group stood before what Jafar assumed were the palace walls. The young man directed their horses toward them. “They’ll take your horses to the stables so they may rest from the long journey. And then I will bring you to the sultan, who will be in the main hall.”

Dismounting, Jafar gently rubbed the neck of his horse. A servant took the reins from him and he reached up and took a satchel and another bag he had attached to the horse's saddle. Digging through the satchel, the book that the prince wanted him to give to the sultan was safely nestled at the bottom. 

Iago was given to a distressed looking servant, who eyed the parrot warily. “Behave yourself,” Jafar commanded, brushing his fingertips along the red feathers, “You’ll be rewarded if you do.”

The parrot squawked happily, “Reward!” Jafar nodded to the servant, who had a strained smile of their own. The young man walked carefully toward the palace. He could only hope that Iago didn’t torture the poor man too much before they made it to their room.

Hakim came around to his side, his own bag thrown over his shoulder. “Hopefully these introductions won’t take too long.”

“Tired?” Jafar teased, following the young man toward the palace. “Very unlike you Hakim.”

The older man scoffed. “Riding through the desert for two straight days tends to do that.” 

Shaking his head, Jafar bit back a smile. As fun as it was to mess with Hakim, he needed to focus. Setting a good impression with the sultan was crucial when visiting a new nation. Establishing a relationship didn’t seem like it would be a struggle. Prince Hamed had spoken very highly of the sultan, lamenting that he couldn’t accompany him on the journey to see his old friend. 

As the prince’s confidant, it was important that he presented himself perfectly. 

The corridors of the palace were bathed in the sunlight from the opening along the railings. The layout of the palace seemed more open then Agrabah’s, which surprised Jafar. There was no ocean breeze to provide comfort to the sweltering heat on days such as this one. A peculiar design choice for a landlocked nation. 

The young man grasped the golden handles of the massive doors before them, pushing them open with some strain. The hall was tame compared to others he had seen on his trips. Yet it felt right for this kingdom. A small nation that didn’t seem overly concerned by what other kingdoms thought of them. The floor was eye-catching, the dark hardwood standing out compared to the beige colored walls. They were sprinkled with other colors that reminded Jafar of the flowers they had seen in the bazaar. 

The sultan stood toward the middle of the room, another man beside him whom Jafar assumed was the grand vizier. The sultan, Bijan, was smiling as they approached. Hakim was two steps behind Jafar, allowing himself to take in the room and the people within it.

Stopping a few feet away from the sultan, Jafar placed his hand over his chest and bowed to his waist. “Sultan Bijan. Thank you for allowing us into your kingdom.”

The older man’s eyes twinkled, his smiling grown under his dark beard. “The pleasure is all mine. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

“Prince Hamed apologizes that he can’t be here. He sends his regards.”

The sultan nodded. “Of course. The prince is a very busy man. But I am happy he had you come Jafar. It has been some time since I’ve seen you last.”

Taken aback, Jafar blinked, his brows furrowing. “I...apologize, I didn’t realize we had met…”

Laughing, the older man stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jafar tensed under the gesture. “I’m not surprised, it was only for a few short moments. Years ago,” Bijan reminisced, “During the prince’s wedding. I”m sure you met a number of people that night.”

That night had been a blur for him. Thinking about it made him dizzy. Most of the names that were told to him went in one ear and at out the other. He was able to escape the festivities at one point and snuck back to his room, allowing him to catch his breath. 

“It was...an eventful night, that I do remember.” The smile on his lips felt strained, trying to keep the embarrassment from his face. Why hadn’t the prince reminded him that he had met the sultan before?

“Enough about the past. I trust your journey went well?” Bijan asked, patting his shoulder once more before stepping away. Inwardly, Jafar felt relieved. 

“Very well. The desert can be harsh at times, but we were able to make it through.”

Bijan’s gaze moved slightly, peeking behind him. Jafar didn’t realize that he had been blocking Hakim throughout the conversation. “Yes, you and your companion. I don’t think we have met?”

Jafar turned slightly, Hakim stepping forward to stand side by side with him. He bowed to the sultan. “We have not, Sultan Bijan. My name is Hakim.”

“The two of you, so formal,” Bijan laughed, echoing through the hall, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hakim. By your armor, I assume you are a guard?”

“That is correct.” Hakim’s voice was stern, much like it was when he was on patrol at the palace. 

“Excellent. I can assume that you are both tired from your journey. Matek will show you to your room,” A small wave from the sultan brought the young man forward, “You may rest up in there before we share supper together later tonight.”

Jafar nodded, the exhaustion in is bones creeping throughout his body. It took most of his concentration to keep his eyes opened. “Thank you, Sultan Bijan. It is appreciated.”

“No trouble at all my boy.” The smile on the sultan’s face never seemed to vanish, only growing more and more. Jafar could understand why the prince enjoyed his company so much. He seemed to be a kind man. 

Following the young man out of the hall, Jafar felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. An uncomfortable feeling, as if someone was watching him. Turning his head, his gaze was met with a dark pair of eyes. The grand vizier, who had said nothing during their exchange, quickly looked away to talk to the sultan. A chill came over Jafar, though he was unsure as to why. The vizier...the couldn’t describe the exact feeling he had regarding the older man’s gaze. 

But he knew he didn’t like it. 

* * *

The layout of the suite they were given was spacious. Unlike most of the palace, the room was enclosed, though there was a properly sized window along the wall which provided a view of the city. When they entered, Matek showed them the two separate beds on each side, a curtain in place to provide some form of privacy. The rest of the area was open, with tables and shelves and other trinkets decorating the room. A bathing room was also built within the suite, which was a pleasant surprise. The young man explained that a servant or himself would come to them when supper was prepared and if they needed anything to simply ask.

Jafar dropped his bag and satchel on the ground next to his bed, sitting on the mattress as he tugged his boots off. While he enjoyed traveling, the low after arriving at a kingdom never became easy. It was like walking into a wall of exhaustion. 

Iago was perched close to the window, happily distracted by the food one of the servants had brought on Jafar’s request. It would keep the parrot quiet, if only for a short time. Anything to allow him a few moments of rest. 

Laying back, he closed his eyes. On the other side of the room, he heard Hakim shuffling around though he was unsure what the other man was doing. It seemed odd that they couldn’t have two separate rooms, but he wasn’t going to argue. The sultan was gracious enough to allow them to have this much space. 

“The sultan seems like a cheerful man.” Hakim’s voice interrupted his thoughts, Jafar lifting his head up slightly to look at him. The older man had taken off his chest plate, sliding off his arm guards as he sat down on his own bed. The statement invited conversation and Jafar debated if he wanted it. 

_ ‘Of course, you take it. Why is that a question?’ _

Sitting up, Jafar tucked his legs over each other, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. “The prince mentioned that he was a kind man. From the way he talked about him, I assumed he and the sultan were good friends.”

Hakim hummed, nodding as he arranged his own belongs next to his bed. There was a furrow between his eyebrows that Jafar noticed. There was a question brewing in the other man’s brain, though what it was he wasn’t sure. 

“Did the prince say anything about the grand vizier?”

The foreboding feeling and dark eyes came to his mind briefly. Jafar rubbed his hands together as he thought back to his conversations with the prince. There was nothing there. Had Hakim noticed something he didn’t? “The vizier? No...nothing that comes to mind right now, at least.”

“I don’t like him.” The sharpness of Hakim’s tone caught him off guard. The tone was rare for his companion, the definitiveness of the statement troubling. He had heard it once before when he came upon Hakim scolding another guard for not being at his post. The new cadet was shaking in his boots when the older man was finished with him. 

This seemed more serious. 

“He didn’t say anything…” Jafar trailed off as he watched Hakim shake his head briefly. 

“He didn’t have to,” the guardsman crossed his arms over his chest, his expression growing grave, “He glared at you the entire time you spoke with the sultan.”

“What?” 

“He never took his eyes off of you. His presence, everything about him…” Hakim’s frown deepened, his jaw clenching. It left him unsettled. The moment they stepped in that room, he could feel something was off. The vizier was silent, but it spoke volumes. “Stay away from him.”

Jafar scoffed, he couldn’t be serious. How could he avoid the vizier? He was second to the sultan, the man they made this journey for. “I can’t just avoid him, Hakim. He will be with the sultan.”

“I mean if you come upon him when you’re alone.” 

Irritation knawed at the back of his mind. Did he find him incapable of handling himself? “I think I can handle the vizier…” He replied sharply, rolling his eyes. There was no need to baby him. Is that how lowly Hakim thought of him? 

Sighing, Hakim stood from his bed and crossed the room. He stopped a few steps away from Jafar, resting his hand on his hip. “Did I say you couldn’t?”

“You seemed to imply it,” Jafar muttered, looking away from him. It was childish, but he had thought he had earned more respect from Hakim. He had never seen him deal with political figures before. How would he know the best way for Jafar to carry himself around them? 

It was like a slap in the face. 

Or he was overreacting to the situation. Maybe they both were. 

Concern lingered in Hakim’s eyes though it didn’t match the frustration etched on his face. Jafar was a friend, one of the few he trusted, but when the younger man found himself in one of these moods he was almost insufferable. They were rare. The non-eye contact, the dismissive attitude, it was the opposite of how he normally acted. Being around him so often, Hakim knew they only came up when there was a deeper problem. He had an idea of what that could be but the details of the issue were still a mystery to him.

The argument earlier in the week. It had happened quickly, so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening until Jafar was glaring at him red in the face. The young man stormed off before he could counter his point and Hakim stood alone in the courtyard, mouth agape. 

The reaction had to be part of another factor and he thought about it all week. He didn’t see Jafar at all, as if he was avoiding him. Iago hadn’t even come to bother him during any of the times he was on duty. It was beyond childish and nothing he had seen from Jafar before. 

Hakim was determined to figure it out while on this trip. But this behavior was making him grow irritated. 

Why couldn’t he just say what was on his mind?

Silence sat in the air between them. Jafar could feel Hakim’s eyes on him but he refused to look at him. He had to have some kind of control over this situation. It was slipping through his fingers and it made him feel stranded. These emotions were clouding his judgment and he needed to push them down until they returned to Agrabah. In the pit of his stomach, he knew what they were. That thought frightened him more than anything. Because it couldn’t be that. He refused to believe it. 

The source of his confusion, his emotional crisis, moved into his field of vision. Jafar pushed himself toward the middle of his bed, putting as much space in between them as he could. The guard's brows were furrowed, gaze catching Jafar’s eyes. 

He felt frozen to his spot and his skin flushed as his anxiety grew. “What?” He muttered, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

“He asks ‘what?” Hakim scoffed, shaking his head. This boy was unbelievable. Did he think him dumb? “What is wrong? You’ve been acting oddly. And not just now,” he waved his hand as if it was running across a line, “but this whole week.”

Jafar dug his fingernails into the palm of his other hand. What was he supposed to say to Hakim? One of the only people he trusted? He could barely tell it to himself. The concept of it made his chest feel like it would burst. 

It was unclear to him when it happened. Or why it happened. At every turn in his life, nothing came easily. And when he would reach a point of calm, things going his way, it would all come tumbling down. That’s how this situation felt. 

He loved Hakim. It terrified him. It left him in this mess that he found himself in. How could he even begin to tell him that? 

No one could know. Telling Hakim, who stared at him now, would only destroy what they had. Jafar couldn’t bear the thought of that. He would rather live on the streets again, begging for scraps.

“I don’t...know what you mean.” Playing dumb was one of the only things he could do. It clawed at him but the truth was too high of a risk. It always was. 

For a long moment, Hakim said nothing. He studied the young man’s face, noting the flush on his neck and the slight strain in his lips. There was something he was hiding. He was trying his best to hide it but he picked up on Jafar’s quirks very quickly. The tenseness of the young man’s posture told him that it would do no good trying to force the information out of him. 

Sighing, Hakim hung his head. What more could he do? “I wish you would tell me what’s bothering you.”

“There’s no-”

“Jafar.” Hakim’s voice was sharp, holding his hand up to stop him. Jafar sat back, watching the other man nervously. “There is an issue that is bothering you, don’t lie. And when you wish to tell me what that is...I will be here.”

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Jafar’s eyes were wide, his hands held tightly together to stop them from trembling. Hakim had turned, walking across the room. “I’m going to wash up before supper.”

Jafar sat alone in the suite, the air hard to breath. There was nothing he could do. The mere idea of trying to tell Hakim petrified him. He didn’t feel the same way, couldn’t feel the same way. It left Jafar in a never-ending storm. 

The room was suffocating. Like the walls were closing in. 

Desperately, Jafar pulled his boots back on and rushed for the door. Iago made a noise behind him but the bird sounded miles away. He needed air, an escape. He needed to be as far from Hakim as he could be. 

The man’s plea to him made him laugh bitterly as he walked down the corridor. How could he tell Hakim what was wrong when the source of his crisis was him?

* * *

Jafar’s fingers traced over the leather-bound book the prince had entrusted him with. It was thick, the tattered pages pound together tightly. The secrets within it secured. He had only opened it when he was in the presence of the prince, who explained what was particularly special about the volume. The prince’s direction had been strict. 

_ ‘It can only be opened in the presence of Bijan.’ _

Leaning against the window’s ledge, Jafar sighed as he gazed out at the city. He was tired. Everything about this trip exhausted him. He wished to be back in Agrabah, taking one of his morning walks along the beach, the cool breeze soothing him. Allowing himself to have a moment alone with his thoughts before becoming the prince’s shadow for the day. 

He was landlocked. Stranded. 

The supper with the sultan had been pleasant the night before. Bijan was a kind man, telling him stories of Prince Hamed’s youth that left his sides hurting from laughter. The man knew how to tell a story, making him feel comfortable in an otherwise tense atmosphere. 

Hakim came to supper as well, along with the grand vizier. The vizier had introduced himself as Namir and they had shaken hands, the unsettling feeling creeping over Jafar again. There was a darkness within Namir’s eyes that left him nauseous, the strain in his smile almost threatening. The vizier’s grip on his wrist was bruisingly tight and Jafar had pulled away as quickly as he could without seeming disrespectful. That had been the lone interaction he had with the older man. Hakim, Jafar had noticed from the corner of his eye, had glared at Namir through the entire supper. 

Jafar gripped his hands together at the guard’s name. They had barely spoken a word to one another since their conversation before supper. Only passing glances, which Jafar was quick to look away from. 

He toyed with the idea of telling Hakim his troubles but each time he shut the idea down. Worst case scenario, Hakim would reject him and whatever they had left of their relationship would be nothing but a memory. Jafar couldn’t think of a best-case scenario. It didn’t seem possible. Hakim was to be head of the palace guard when his father passed on the mantle. He would have the respect and loyalty of the other guards within the kingdom. What could Jafar possibly provide that could compete with such an honor?

Pain shot through his hand and Jafar yelped, brought out from his spiraling thoughts. Iago was perched on the ledge next to him, pecking at his fingers. “Food! Meeting with the sultan!”

“I already fed you…” Jafar muttered with annoyance, walking over to the table near the window. There was a bowl that had remnants from the bird’s earlier meal. He grabbed it, going over to the bag of feed that was provided to them by the servants. Placing the small bowl in front of the parrot, it cried happily and jumped onto the bowl’s edges, digging into the food. 

Jafar took the book from the ledge and walked to his side of the room, checking over his outfit in a mirror. His eyes had small bags under them but nothing too noticeable. He adjusted his high collar, undoing it slightly to give himself some comfort from the simmering heat. Then he noticed the sash around his waist was slightly crooked and he placed the book down, adjusting it. 

The meeting with the sultan was soon. There would be other matters that Bijan would want to discuss, the relationship with Shirabad, how trade was fairing, anything was on the board. Speaking with the sultan wasn’t the problem, conversing with him during supper last night put Jafar’s mind at ease. The man was very warm and welcoming and seemed eager to discuss any topic with him. 

It was the vizier. Men like him had tried to trip Jafar up in these types of discussions. It had occurred a few times before while he visited other kingdoms. Between his age and slight inexperience when dealing with royalty, they would wait to pounce on the mistake he would make. Each time, Jafar proved them wrong and would talk his way out of the situation with ease. 

Namir left him unsettled. It was an uncommon feeling for him and it wasn’t a feeling he liked before entering the meeting. Exhaustion washed over him. Nothing would be better than to wrap this matter up quickly and leave for home the following day. A deep sigh passed his lips as he looked over himself in the mirror once more. 

“You look tired,” Hakim observed as he walked back into the room. His tone was stern but Jafar knew better. Concern and pity. The two things he didn’t need, especially from him. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, grabbing the book from the bed, and turning to level Hakim with an annoyed glare, “We should get going.”

Hakim stayed silent, watching him from afar before shrugging. The older mand had outfitted himself with his traditional guard uniform, including the chain mail that peeked out under his sleeves. It’s ridiculous, Jafar thought. They are only meeting in a room with a small group of people. But it was his choice.

Walking down the corridor, he could feel Hakim’s gaze burning into his back. Though they hadn’t spoken much, for Hakim, his gaze could speak volumes. Jafar knew he wasn’t going to let go of the conversation they had started yesterday. It couldn’t be avoided for much longer. The meeting was his only buffer from him being alone with the guard. 

He would have to tell him something. 

A guard stood at the door and nodded to the pair, opening it for them to walk through. The sultan’s study was grand, lined with bookshelves on each side. The ceilings were tall, with areas cut out that allowed the sunlight to stream in. In the middle of the room, a long oak table sat. Chairs were lined up along each side, though Jafar assumed that was for show. 

Bijan was off to the side of the room, talking with Namir when he noticed them enter. The ever-present smile greeted them. “Good morning gentlemen.” His eyes stopped at the book that rested between Jafar’s hands. They widened, the smile on his face morphing into a softer expression. 

Jafar nodded, “Good morning to you as well sultan Bijan.”

Bijan shook his head, wrapping an arm around Jafar’s shoulders as they walked toward the table. “Jafar, I’ve told you to call me Bijan. Do you give Hamed the same trouble with your formalness?”

“The prince feels the same way as you do,” Jafar conceded with a shy smile, their proximity causing his muscles to tense. He was never comfortable with other people touching him, “I do apologize.”

The sultan brushed it off and stepped away, motioning for him to sit down. Jafar did, placing the book on the table and off to the side. Hakim sat next to him a few moments later, his gaze focused on the vizier who sat to the left of the sultan. Two guards lingered toward the back of the room, leaving the four of them alone. 

“We discussed it briefly last night, but how are things in Agrabah?” Bijan asked, his hands folded over on the table. “I’ve heard there are some issues with a few incidents along the border.”

“There has been a handful,” Jafar explained, leaning forward to meet the sultan’s gaze. He was only going to focus on him, the ever-present dark eyes of the vizier boring into him from the side. “But they have slowed, which we are grateful for. It seems that it was only a few minor incidents.”

“If I may inject, my sultan?” Namir’s voice was low, a calming tenor. Jafar could understand how it masked his unnerving presence. It put him on edge. His eyes fell on the vizier and he dreaded the question that he knew would be asked. 

“Of course Namir.”

“I had heard some troubling reports that the people causing the ambushes on your border...are disguised Shirbad soldiers…” The tone oozed in fake concern, a knowing glint in the older man’s eye. Jafar knew a trap when he saw one. “Is that true?”

It’s what the scouting reports had concluded. It was what the prince feared. But they were never confirmed. What troubled Jafar was how the vizier knew the specifics of the ambushers. Those reports were for only a handle of people within the palace. 

Jafar smiled tightly. “There have been reports that speak to that, but we have confirmed nothing. Shirabad is our ally. It could be men disguised as Shirabad soldiers,” his voice was smooth, calm and it seemed to annoy the vizier. The older man’s eye twitched with every word, “We are still working to gather those facts. We don’t wish to guess wildly on such important matters.”

Namir’s mouth twitched his calm exterior cracking. “Of course. But the reports I have obtained…”

“Where have you obtained those reports, if I may ask?” Jafar asked innocently, raising an eyebrow. 

“I have trusted scouts from other kingdoms.”

“The most knowledgeable reports regarding the matter come from Agrabah as it is our issue. Things have been...tense with Shirbad lately,” he turned to the sultan, who was silent throughout the exchange. A smile played on Jafar’s lips, “But we are still ally’s. And Princess Sabira hails from that kingdom. We don’t work in rumors. Only facts.”

Bijan nodded and Jafar knew he had him on his side. What he was saying was true, to an extent. The prince worked in facts. The sultan was the one who wanted to run with the rumors. 

Darkness settled over Namir, a snarl forming on his face. Jafar could hear the older man’s teeth grinding together. His piercing eyes flashed, leaning over the table to point his finger in Jafar’s face. “Don’t play me for a fool ra-”

Hakim’s chair scraped back and he stood swiftly, grabbing the vizier’s wrist away from Jafar’s face. The guard’s eyes narrowed, the crushing grip he had on the older man’s arm almost snapping it in two. The vizier cried out pathetically. Jafar’s eyes widened, shocked at his friend’s reaction. His heart pounded in his ears.

“Namir.” Bijan’s tone was sharp, glaring at his vizier. “That is enough.”

Hakim let go of the other man after a moment, though his dark eyes never broke away from the vizier. Namir sneered and cradled his wrist to his chest, turning to Bijan. “My sultan…”

“Leave us Namir...I’m sure there are other matters that require your presence.”

The other man stared at his sultan like he had been slapped in the face. His expression dropped, bowing. “Forgive me, my sultan...if that is all.”

The heat from the vizier’s glare was seething. He quickly departed the room, his venomous glare on Jafar until his back was turned and out the door. 

Hakim stood at his side, his fingers brushing Jafar’s sleeve briefly. Jafar flushed faintly at the touch. Hakim looked down and the young man was caught off by the concern on his companion’s face. “It is fine Hakim…” he whispered with a reassuring smile. 

Hakim hesitated, taking in Jafar’s expression, body language, everything. His blood had boiled during that conversation but Jafar seemed unfazed. After a moment, he nodded and settled himself back in his seat.

“I am…” Bijan shook his head, lost for words, “incredibly sorry about him. He has been tense as of late, but that was uncalled for. Forgive me, Jafar.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” his attention turned back to the sultan, the practiced composure returned to Jafar’s face, “We all have a lapse from time to time.”

The discussion regarding the matters of each kingdom continued for a time. Bijan reported on the trade affairs of Rarasin, how things were moving smoothly. They had even begun to build more ships for trade use, though the coast was miles away. It would allow them to grow more he had explained, citing Agrabah as an ever-growing destination for almost any kingdom. 

Jafar brought up the annual Harvest Festival, which the prince extended an invitation for Bijan to attend. It had been too long since he had visited Jafar explained, relaying the prince’s words. The invitation brought a shine to the sultan’s eyes and he happily agreed.

With care, Jafar slowly slide the book that had sat beside him during the meeting closer to him. He pushed it toward the middle of the table, in the reach of the sultan. The older man’s eyes became glassy as he looked upon the leather volume. “The prince wanted to be here when this was given to you. He hoped it would bring you...some form of closure.”

Hakim eyed the book, confused. Jafar hadn’t told him what was in the book or what it was about, even when he pestered him. What could be within those pages that made the sultan's hands tremble as he brought it close to him?

Slowly, with the utmost care, the sultan opened the book. His fingertips brushed over the pages lightly, as if they would break at the smallest bit of pressure. Hakim was unable to see what was on the page, the words small and messy. Handwritten if he had to guess. 

The edges of the sultan’s eyes watered, a low laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe…” he mumbled, voice strained with emotion, “how did he find this?”

“The prince said that the princess was going through some of the older rooms in the palace. It was on top of a stack of other books in one of the guest rooms…” Jafar explained in a soft voice, watching the sultan as he turned from one page to the next. “The princess knew when she saw it that you would want it.”

Nodding, Bijan took a deep breath. Attempting to compose himself. But a few tears trailed down his cheeks, his eyes trained on Jafar, “Thank you...for bringing me such a gift. I thought I had lost everything of her’s.”

“Of course.” 

Under the table, Jafar tapped Hakim’s knee. This was a moment that he was sure the sultan wished to spend alone. It was not their place to intrude.

Hakim felt left in the dark. There was something unspoken here. He would press Jafar about it. But he knew that the tap had meant. 

Carefully, the two rose from their chairs. “I’m sure you want time sultan Bijan,” Jafar said kindly, a small smile on his face. “We will be in our suite if you need us.” 

The book cradled to the older man’s chest, he rose from his chair as well. Gently, he took Jafar’s hand. It was warm, softer then what Jafar thought it would be. “Thank you. This means…,” he stopped himself, sighing, “Thank you.”

Their hands slide apart and Jafar nodded, turning away. His eyes met Hakim’s and the pounding in his chest grew.

What the sultan had, that was love. It flooded his eyes when he saw the book, his fingers tracing over it the worn pages with incredible warmth. It was a long lost love, but that was something that never left. It buried itself deep in the soul and would always be part of that person. 

Jafar had that, but it brought him nothing but pain. The love that he yearned for would never feel the same. It burned his soul and left him lost. How could he think himself worthy of man such as Hakim? It was a fool’s errand. 

Jafar was always the fool. 

* * *

Supper with the sultan had been uneventful. The older man was subdued but still charming and willing to share stories about the past. It was simple which was exactly what Jafar had been looking for after a long day. 

Hakim had declined, citing that he was going to check on the horses for their journey home the following day. He would grab something from the kitchen once he was finished. 

While alone in the suite, Jafar removed the sash around his waist and undie a few more notches on his shirt, the cool air bringing relief to the top of his chest. There was no need to be made up in his own space. 

He leaned against the ledge as he had done in the morning, Iago perched beside him. He turned slightly, chuckling at the parrot as it repeated one of its many phrases when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Across the room, hidden, was a door nestled in the corner. He had assumed it was a closet but his curiosity was peaked. Stepping away from the ledge, Iago hopping onto his shoulder, Jafar crossed the room and cautiously opened the door. Beyond it was a pathway, small, but with light at the end. 

What could be down there? The idea intrigued him and he cautiously entered the pathway, his eyes scanning from side to side for any traps. It had some cobwebs hanging from the corners and he brushed them away as they passed through. No one had been down here in some time. 

The end of the path curved and what it opened up to surprised and delighted him. It wasn’t more paths, which he had been expecting.

Before him was a balcony full of flowers, brushes, and a few small trees he had never seen. They primed with color, the different hues of purple jumping out to him as he approached. The area looked well kept, the large patch of grass covering the balcony floor trimmed to perfection. He moved between the bushes and flowers and found a simple piece of the balcony untouched. As if it had been put there on purpose. 

It was how he found himself laying back on the grass and gazing up at the sky. The sun was slowly setting and the darkness was starting the meld with the reds and oranges of the sun's last rays. It was how he pictured a painting. 

Iago sat on the ground beside him, Jafar’s hand absent-mindedly running back and forth over his feathers. The parrot seemed to enjoy it, cooing from time to time. Jafar couldn’t help but laugh to himself. 

Tomorrow they would leave. Warmth flooded over him at the thought of being back within the palace walls. It was very rare that he found himself homesick. This short trip had tested him. As much as he enjoyed Bijan’s company, it was hard not to become fond of the man’s infectious smile, something about this kingdom put him on edge. He couldn’t place his finger on the exact point. It wasn’t just Namir that left a pit in his stomach. The moment they had crossed into the borders of the kingdom, he had felt something amiss. 

Iago perked up suddenly, ripping Jafar from his musing. The parrot flapped its wings and took off, Jafar sitting up in confusion. “Iago?” He whispered, watching the red feathers disappear over the flowers and bushes that blocked off his area. Was it one of the servants? Would he be in trouble for being in this area?

The bushes rustled, a muttering voice reaching his ears, and Hakim appeared through the shrubbery with Iago on his shoulder. The parrot tried to peck at his face and Hakim growled, attempt to shoo the bird away. “Stop it.”

The guard was dressed down, his heavier outfit replaced with his simple red shirt and white baggy pants. His usual tightly wrapped bun was looser like he had thrown it up in a hurry. 

Jafar bit his lip, hiding his laughter a the feuding pair, and clicked his tongue. “Come now Iago, stop bothering Hakim.”

The parrot’s head snapped toward him, Hakim’s as well with a surprised look, and the bird launched itself from the man’s shoulder. It didn’t fly over to Jafar, soaring through the air before finding a spot on one of the columns that lined the balcony's edge. 

“I arrived back the suite and I didn’t see you,” Hakim explained, not moving from his spot, “I saw that side door open and just followed it...this is a lovely spot you’ve found.”

Jafar took a quick glance around, nodding. “It is quite lovely.”

Silence sat between them. He couldn’t stand it, the unneeded tension. Before he thought better of himself, Jafar patted the open area next to him. “You can sit if you would like…,” a teasing smile pulled at the corner of his lips, “I won’t bite, I swear.”

Hakim hesitated for a brief moment before he chuckled. With a quick stride, he sat cross-legged on the ground beside him. Jafar sat the same way, his hands cupped on his lap, gazing up at the night sky. The darkness had overtaken the bright colors, fading them away until the next day. 

“Jafar …” He turned at Hakim’s voice, catching his eye. The older man looked pensive, his fingertips drumming on top of his knee. “That book that you gave to the sultan…”

“I didn’t mean to be so secretive about it,” he injected, earning a headshake from the older man. 

“No, I understand. It was on the prince’s request, was it not?” Jafar nodded and Hakim hummed, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, “I meant to ask...who it belonged to.”

Jafar’s thumb toyed with the ring that rested on his finger. Sadness crept onto his face as he nodded at Hakim’s words. “It belonged to the former queen.”

“Former?”

“From what the prince told me, she passed away a month or so after his and Sabira’s wedding,” It felt odd saying the princess’s name without a title. He pushed the feeling aside, continuing, “The queen must have left the book by mistake. Princess Sabira found it recently in one of those guest rooms toward the back of the palace.”

Everything clicked for Hakim. The words on the page seemed messy because they were handwritten by the queen, thoughts she had for only herself to read. The understanding brought pity for the sultan, who had cradled the item with such care. The last piece of a loved one thought gone. 

Jafar pressed on absentmindedly, twisting his ring. “The prince didn’t want to take the chance of the book being lost by a simple messenger,” he chuckled lightly, “so he requested a hand delivery.”

“It was very kind of the prince to do that.” Hakim nodded, his gaze taking in Jafar. The young man looked tired. The bags under his eyes, the tinge of paleness to his skin. He sat hunched forward as if there was a weight sitting on his back. Whatever issue that was bothering Jafar, it was slowly eating at him. Hakim cursed to himself, unsure what to do. He wanted to confront Jafar on the issue, have him explain what is bothering him. But he knew the moment he would do that, his companion would shut down. It had already happened once. 

He needed to try something, anything. He couldn’t stand watching him wallow in this situation alone.

“Jafa-”

“Hakim.” Jafar stopped him, though his eyes stayed focused on his hands. They had stopped moving and he gripped them tightly. His voice was just above a whisper. “I’m sorry...I’ve been…” he paused, tensing his jaw trying to find the words, “This week has been...it’s left me lost.”

“Lost?” Hakim echoed, his voice laced with worry. 

Jafar shrugged, laughing to himself. “I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t...it’s something I have to deal with,” stopping, he turned his head to fac, who’s face was etched with concern, “I shouldn’t have pushed it upon you.”

Jafar’s heart was beating so hard his chest hurt. All of this, every feeling he had within his soul and his body, all ached from Hakim. He couldn’t allow it to phase him anymore. Every waking moment, he couldn’t feel like this. 

He kept telling himself that and every time he failed. 

Hakim could feel there is more than Jafar wouldn’t say. He felt helpless. His hand twitched on his knee, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort him. “Is there...anything I can help with?” He asked. 

Did the universe enjoy mocking him? Inwardly, Jafar couldn’t help but laugh. The request was simple coming from Hakim but he didn’t know what he was asking for. There was a myriad of ways he could help him. He could confess to Jafar that he felt the exact same way, that he had been burying his feelings because he too was afraid to admit it. Admit to the storm of emotions and confusion that he was tormented with. Drag him over to him till their lips met and let Jafar hungrily kiss him, digging his hands through Hakim’s hair. Feel the brush of his beard against his neck as he trailed kisses down it an-

Jafar’s nails dug into the palm of his hand, driving the scenario to the farthest corner of his mind. The tips of his ears felt like they were on fire. “No...it’s just something I have to rectify…” his voice cracked and he coughed, trying to cover it up. His mouth felt like had swallowed sand, “I do appreciate the offer.”

Hakim’s eyes narrowed, noting the flush on his neck. Was he not feeling well? That seemed unlikely. He felt like he was being left in the dark again. Another possibility crept up at the edge of his mind but he brushed it aside. There was no way Jafar felt the same way. 

“I’m here if you need anything.” He conceded, tapping Jafar’s knee lightly. This wasn’t an issue he would let die but would move on from it for now. 

Softness settled over Jafar's face, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

Darkness overtook the balcony and the small fires that lined the palace walls couldn’t provide enough light. Reluctantly, they both rose from the ground and pushed their way through the bushes. Hakim walked ahead of him, Jafar letting out a low whistle as he stood at the entrance of the pathway. In an instant, Iago swooped down, circling Jafar for a moment before settling on his shoulder. “Someone is active tonight.” Jafar shook his head, gazing at the balcony garden one last time. 

Passing through the door, he closed it behind him and bribed Iago with food to free up his shoulder. The parrot happily obliged, ignoring his master completely. Jafar grumbled as he rubbed the familiar spot. Those claws were beginning to become a hassle. 

The thought triggered a memory that he couldn’t help but grin at. “Hakim,” he called, the man in question turning to him, “How hard did you grab the vizier’s wrist today?”

Darkness settled over Hakim’s eyes, sitting down hard on the edge of his bed. “I should have snapped it.”

“Well, we can’t have that happen…” Jafar uttered but Hakim seemed to pay him no mind. 

“I can’t believe you were able to keep a straight face with that fool,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. The thought it left him simmering. “The second he injected himself in that conversation, I knew…”

It amused him how riled up Hakim was getting. “The vizier is not unlike other men I have had to deal with.” Jafar shrugged as he tugged off his boots. He dug through his bag for his nightshirt and swiftly changed into it. 

“I didn’t…” Hakim’s voice cut off and Jafar turned, brows furrowed. The other man had stopped, looking away from him.  
“Didn’t what?” Jafar prodded his silent companion. He sat cross-legged on his bed, waiting for a response. 

“I didn’t realize that you dealt with people like that,” he responded, waving toward him, “who think they’re above you.”

Jafar raised an eyebrow. “They do work in politics. It’s very com-”

“He was going to call you a rat.” Hakim injected sharply, his jaw clenched. 

Oh. 

Word had spread to a few of the kingdoms Jafar had visited. The first time that it happened, he had to control himself from lunging at the man. That angered festered in him the entire trip and it was only when he returned to Agrabah that he allowed it to hurt. 

It didn’t phase him now. He couldn’t allow it. An easy weakness for others to exploit would do him no good in the political world he traveled in. The prince had discussed it with him one night after Jafar mentioned it. _ “They can believe it is a weakness,” _ he explained with a soft tone, _ “but you will have the upper hand when they realize they can’t break you.” _

He understood Hakim’s concern and appreciated it. Warmth flooded over him though he tried not to let it show. “The vizier will have to be more clever than that to bother me. But I understand where you are coming from.”

Hakim’s anger subsided but still burned within him. It didn’t bother Jafar. That fact bothered him more than anything. “That vizier had it coming…people like that,” he paused, mulling over his words. Did he want to reiterate something obvious? It never hurt. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re a waste of your time.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Jafar nodded with a smile. That was what he appreciated about Hakim. Simple and straight to the point. Most people, himself included, tended to beat around the bush far too often. It was refreshing to have someone by his side to cut through that. He continued to be surprised by the man over and over again. Aside from the prince, there was no one Jafar trusted more than Hakim. 

Which was why the feelings that he had would ruin him. 

* * *

There was no grand farewell when they left Rarasin. Bijan joined them early for breakfast, thanking them again for making the journey. He handed Jafar a few things that were to be given to Prince Hamed, which he stashed in his satchel. Hakim gathered their horses from the stable servants and checked the saddles before providing the ‘ok’ to leave. 

“I will see you at the harvest festival I hope?” The sultan asked Jafar as he climbed up on his horse. 

“If I’m not away on another task, then of course.” 

The sultan had smiled and wished them both well. The streets early in the morning were deserted and they had no trouble finding their way back to the gates. Their horses broke into a gallop the moment they crossed under the bridge, Iago taking off into the air and flying beside them. 

An occasional break was taken as they rode back to Agrabah. Allowing the horses to rest, drinking from their water skins, or snacking on the variety of berries or nuts that were provided to them. The sun’s rays felt hotter than they had ever been. Maybe he should have taken Hakim’s advice about the lighter clothing. 

Following behind Hakim, Jafar gazed out into the vast desert. Dunes upon dunes spread over the horizon, the sun slowly reaching it’s time to set. Judging from its placement in the sky, they had at least two hours of light left. 

“We should find a spot to set up camp soon,” Jafar called out, motioning to the cluster of rocks a small distance away from them. “That seems like a reasonable spot.”

“Let’s get a closer look before deciding.” Hakim retorted, turning forward. Since they had left Rarasin, nothing sat right with him. It felt as if eyes were on them, observing their every movement. For what, he didn’t know. But he knew that it wasn’t something that could be good. 

At the foot of the rock formation, Hakim checked the perimeter for the third time. Noting the easiest escape routes and spots that could be used for shielding. The unsettling feeling hadn’t left him. It had only grown. He palmed the handle of his sword that sat on his hip, gazing swiftly over the sands before turning back to the makeshift camp. 

The horses sat off a bit from the camp, settled on the ground with the water that could be provided to them. They slide the saddles off them for the night, allowing the animals to rest the best they could for the latter half of the journey. 

Jafar sat on the ground, near the small fire they had started, tying something to Iago’s leg. With a quick tug, he pulled back from the bird. “All set.”

“Are you sure he should be sent back so early?” Hakim asked as he approached, an eyebrow raised in question. 

Nodding, Jafar stood up, Iago settled on his forearm that was raised. “That way they’ll know we should arrive and be prepared. Since the trip is so short, it’s no use in sending Iago in the morning.”

Hakim stayed quiet as he watched Jafar brush a finger lightly over the parrot one more time. “Go straight to the prince. And try not to give him a hard time.” 

“Straight to the prince! Tomorrow at noon!”

Iago took off, the red feather blending in with the redding skyline in the distance. Happy that was taken care of, Jafar turned and was struck by the worried expression on his friend. “Is there something wrong?”

Every nerve in Hakim’s body was on alert. His instinct was screaming to leave this place, not to stop until they returned to Agrabah. That was nearly impossible. They couldn’t ride through the night without rest. But he felt as if they were open targets here. 

His father told him time and time again to never second guess his instinct.

“We need to leave this place.” He stated sharply, scanning the area again. 

Jafar furrowed his brows, stepping toward him with confusion. “What? Hakim, we just set u-”

“Jafar, we need to g-”

The horses cried out behind them, their hooves pounding into the sand. Hakim’s head whipped around, eyes widening as he watched two darkly clothed figures stab their horses over and over. The animals attempted to kick out, to escape from their attackers but whimpered and crumbled onto the ground. 

Quickly, Hakim unsheathed his sword, putting his arm out in front of Jafar. He had heard the young man gasp behind him and he quickly stole a glance. The dagger that Jafar carried with him shook slightly in his hand, his jaw tense. When their eyes met, nothing needed to be said. 

The two attackers approached, each carrying a sword. They were dressed mostly in black, their faces covered by the fabric. Nothing that would signify where they hailed from. 

“What do you want?” Hakim growled, setting his feet apart into a defensive position. There was no telling what these two thugs would do. 

No response came from the pair. They paused a few steps away, taking in their targets. Hakim couldn’t hear but they muttered something in a different language that he didn’t understand. 

Swifty, they lunged into an attack. 

Hakim grunted as he brought his sword up, blocking the man’s blade. He pushed forward, knocking the attacker off balance and swung his sword at the man’s torso. His opponent caught himself and turned on his heel, jumping back to create distance between them. The man charged forward again, parrying a strike from Hakim’s own blade, and swung his sword toward Hakim’s legs. 

Hakim cursed, the tip of the blade knicking his thigh before he was able to step back. It wasn’t deep, but it had been too close a call. Behind him, he could hear the fight between Jafar and the other attacker. Jafar only having a dagger troubled him greatly. These fighters were skilled and though he trusted that the younger man could take care of himself, Hakim wanted to end this quickly. 

Another strike against his blade told Hakim everything needed to know about his attacker. His moves were quick, with powerful blows. If that didn’t work, he would create distance between them and invite Hakim to come to him. He was trying to wear him down and wait until a mistake was made. Parrying another attack, Hakim started to form his own plan. 

Quickly, Hakim lunged at the man, catching him off guard, and brought his sword down toward the other man’s shoulder. The attacker was able to block it, the clanging of metal reverberating. He could feel the other man’s arms shake under the pressure and Hakim had him. Grinding the blade down, he swiftly kneeled and, under the attacker’s arms, slashed the man’s torso. The man’s clothes ripped apart, the wound oozing with blood as Hakim’s blade was dragged across his stomach. Blood drenched the tip of his blade as Hakim pulled it back to his side. 

The attacker screamed, muffled by the fabric, and grabbed at the wound. His other hand held up his sword, shaking from the strain. 

Hakim’s eyes narrowed. Knocking the attacker’s weapon aside, he strided quickly forward and grabbed what he assumed was the back of the man’s neck. With no hesitation, his grip white-knuckled on the handle of his sword, he plunged the blade through the man’s chest. 

The attacker grabbed at his arm, trying in vain to push him away. Hakim grunted and shoved the blade deeper, the wheezing of the man’s breath filling his ears. 

The fabric blocking the attacker’s face fell, blood trickling from the sides of his lips. Hakim felt his eyes widen as he looked upon the man’s face. 

The small smile that had greeted them at the gates of Rarasin looked back at him now, the dark brown eyes glassed over. Hakim’s heart pounded as a realization came over him. 

Ripping his sword back, the attacker crumpled to the ground. His back landed on the sand and the blood gushed from his wound, seeping into the ground. Hakim looked down at him, his chest heaving, adrenaline pumping through his veins. This couldn’t be. If that was one of the guards, then the other attacker…

Hakim whipped his head around and it felt as if his heart had stopped. It was like time had stopped at that moment. This couldn’t be happening. Everything became numb. His heaving chest picked up as his body ran toward the source of his terror. 

Only steps away, a dagger was plunged into Jafar’s lower torso. The attacker held him exactly as Hakim held his opponent only moments ago, the man’s lips whispering in the young man’s ear.

“**_Jafar_ **!”

* * *

Jafar knew he was at a disadvantage the moment he saw the attacker’s swords. He cursed himself for leaving his own weapon back in Agrabah, drawing the dagger he had sheathed through his sash. A foolish mistake that could cost him. 

The attacker’s lunged at them, the man approaching him thrusting his blade forward. Jafar stepped back, parrying the attack, and jumped back to create distance. He needed time to think of a strategy but the other man didn’t allow him to rest. The attacker came at him again, attempting to faint to Jafar’s right to open the young man up. But Jafar was a step ahead and ducked away, blocking the blade once again before stepping out of reach. The other man’s eyes were shrouded but he could feel the piercing gaze that was watching him. 

The playing field needed to be evened and fast. Another swing of the man’s sword, inches away from Jafar’s face, reaffirmed that he needed to rethink his strategy. There was no way he was going to tire the other man out. The sword needed to be dealt with. 

Dashing forward, Jafar swung his dagger over his head and as the other man went to block, he dropped down to a crouch. Thrusting his dagger upward, it pierced the palm of the man’s hand and ripped through the skin, droplets of blood landing on Jafar’s face. He ripped the blade out and rolled to the side, the man screaming behind him. 

“You!”

The sword dropped to the sand, sinking into it. Before Jafar could back away, the man charged at him, his blood slicked hand grabbing Jafar’s wrist. Yelling, Jafar struggled against the man’s stronger grip, wrestling for his dagger. Grinding his teeth, he tried to push his attacker back, digging his feet into the sand. The other man didn’t budge, his eyes creasing upward as if he had a smile under the fabric over his face. 

Staring, it took a moment for the shock to course through Jafar. Those eyes, which darkened with anger, were a piercing green. And under one of them, he could make out the beginning of a jagged scar. Like the scar that marked the guard they greeted them in Rarasin. 

It couldn’t be. Jafar squinted his eyes, his eyes brows furrowed. None of this made sense. 

His moment of confusion cost him. 

The attacker overwhelmed him, pushing Jafar’s wrist back enough that he heard a snap. He cried out, the dagger dropping from his hand. The other man grabbed him, turning Jafar around and locked his head into a chokehold. Jafar felt his feet lift from the ground and he tried to kick back to no avail. Gasping, trying to keep from panicking, Jafar clawed at the other man’s sleeved arm. His nails dug into the fabric and he realized that the man had no armguards underneath. 

Desperation took over. 

Jafar elbowed his attacker, who grunted and loosened his hold slightly. That was all he needed. Jafar lunged forward and bit down into the man’s arm, tasting blood as his teeth broke the skin. His vision began to blur when the man yelled out. 

Jafar was pushed into the sand, the attacker clutching his arm. Scrambling up, slightly dazed, he turned toward the man and stared, spots dancing in his vision. 

“You rat!”

Out of the corner of his, Jafar saw his dagger sticking out from the sand. He lunged for it, preparing to counter his attacker when the other man grabbed and yanked his arm back. The man pulled him close, digging his fingers into the side of Jafar’s neck, his eyes venomous. The fabric that disguised was gone. Inches apart, Jafar shivered as the other man’s hot breath tickled his face. 

Pain exploded from his side. It was unlike anything he had felt before. He could feel the blade in his body, it’s jagged edges ripping through. Desperately, he grabbed his attacker's arm, weakly trying to push him away. The man’s smile was snake-like, a low laugh rumbling from his chest. 

The blade twisted and Jafar cried out, the searing pain overwhelming his senses. 

“** _Jafar!_ **”

His attacker’s head snapped to the side and ripped the jagged blade from his body. A chocked gasp escaped Jafar's lips as he stumbled back, his trembling hands pressed over where the wound was. They were covered in blood instantly, the sash around his waist slowly changing from white to red. 

His knee’s buckled, sinking to the ground. His chest was heaving, breathing erratic because all he could see was red. There was so much, even as he tried to stop it, it kept coming and coming. He felt it on his skin, seeping through his clothing. It was all tainted. His heart felt like it would burst through his chest, he was going to die out he-

“Jafar! Jafar, you need to stay calm.”

A familiar warmth cradled his cheek. His panicked eyes looked up and Hakim’s shined back, different emotions swimming in them. 

“Take deep breaths,” Hakim instructed, his voice soothing. How could he always be so calm? Jafar envied it, “Like me.”

Hakim took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, waving Jafar to repeat. His lips trembled but he nodded, breathing in and exhaling shakily. They repeated this until Jafar’s heart didn’t feel like it would burst from his chest. 

“I have to take you near the fire,” Hakim explained, “Keep your hands pressed against the wound. I’ll guide you.”

Jafar nodded and Hakim went around him, grasping the sides of his arms to help his stand. His legs felt like jelly, wobbling underneath the slightest bit of pressure. Once he was up, Hakim walked with him as they made their way back to their camp. Theor bags and items had been turned over, the horses panicked moves flinging everything in different directions. But the fire stayed lite as if nothing had happened. 

Sitting back against the rock wall, Jafar bit back a hiss as Hakim quickly undid his shirt. The fabric was soaked in his blood, sticking to his skin. Running toward their bags, Hakim raced back with a cloth in hand, showing it to Jafar. “You’re going to have to move your hands so I can see the wound. I’ll try to wipe away as much as I can,” the controlled tone of voice brought comfort to Jafar. Hakim always knew what to do. “But then you’ll need to press down again to stop the bleeding.”

Jafar nodded, biting his bottom lip and cautiously pulled his trembling hands away. His skin was stained in red. Under his nails, into every pore. The fabric being peeled away didn’t phase him as he stared at the blood. There was so much, it had to stop. Didn't it?

Hakim grabbed a water skin next to them and carefully poured water above the wound, wiping away as much blood as he could. Jafar kicked out, hissing. “I’m sorry, I need to do this,” Hakim muttered, wiping away a new stream of blood leaving the wound. The dagger had ripped through the skin, the jagged edges adding more damage than Hakim liked. He had to stem the bleeding.

His mind raced, going through the items they had brought with them. There was no needle or thread for him to stitch the wound. Wrapping it would do them no good. The wound was too large, it needed to be closed.

The last option washed dread over him. In desperate times, his father explained to him years ago, when all options were exhausted, cauterizing the wound had to be done. It would stem the blood flow and buy them time until they were able to either find medical help or reach their destination. But the risks for infection were high. 

Hakim gripped the cloth soaked in blood, cursing everything. 

It had to be done. 

Pressing the fabric to Jafar’s wound, Jafar’s hands replacing his own, Hakim rushed to their scattered bags. There was a skin of liquor they were to bring back to the prince he could use to try and disinfect the wound. Digging through a bag, he grabbed the item quickly and unsheathed one of the daggers attached to his waist. He poured the liquid over the blade and wiped it down, cleaning it to the best of his ability. He stuck the handle of the dagger into the sand, the blade glowing slightly from the heat of the fire. 

Grabbing a piece of leather, Hakim kneeled down next to Jafar. His skin was paler, his eyes still alert but they were beginning to glaze over. He turned his head when he saw Hakim and smiled slightly. “Bad news?” 

“It’ll seem bad but it’s the only way ” Hakim stated lightly, trying to mask the despair he felt, “The wound is deep and too big. The bleeding isn’t stopping...I need...I need to cauterize it.”

The word took a moment to process for Jafar. The meaning of it rolled around his head. Everything was beginning to become crossed. But he knew from Hakim’s expression, it wasn't anything he liked. 

“If it’s the only thing we can do…” Jafar trusted him. Even if it would scar him, he knew Hakim wouldn’t do it if there was another option.

Nodding, Hakim held up the piece of leather, “You’re going to bite down on this. It’s going to fucking hurt, like nothing you have felt before. But I need you to try and not kick out while I’m doing this,” his explanation was rushed, knowing they were losing daylight with each passing moment, “Hold onto my shoulders and just dig into them. Do you understand?”

Taking the leather, Jafar nodded. He pushed it into his mouth and bite down on it, wincing at the taste. 

Quickly, Hakim got up and grabbed the liquor skin, a fresh cloth, and the dagger. The blade was glowing a bright orange, the temperature he needed. 

Striding back, Hakim carefully placed the dagger on a rock. It couldn’t be contaminated by sand. He straddled Jafar, missing the flush that came over the young man’s skin. Taking the blood-soaked cloth from Jafar’s wound, he repeated his process from before. The wound was dry, the blood flow slowed slightly. He grabbed the blade and his eyes locked with Jafar’s. Their usual spark was gone, glassed over with pain. The young man nodded, his hands digging into Hakim’s shoulders. 

Jafar’s muffled screams rattled him to his core. 

His fingers broke the skin, digging in deep as Hakim over and over again squeezing his wound closed and laid the blade over to seer it shut. Pain filled tears tracked down Jafar’s cheeks, his cries cracking from the burning sensation. 

Hakim couldn’t look up at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to continue if he did. The smell of burning flesh almost made him gag. Jafar’s whimpers above him were painful. He had done that to his friend. How could he do such a thing?

The last bit of skin burned together, Hakim threw the dagger aside with disgust and grabbed the cloth. Pouring the liquor on it, he gently dabbed the area around the seared skin. The idea of infection petrified him. They would have to make it back to Agrabah to prevent anything like that. 

Jafar’s eyes were puffy, the iris glossed over red from the tears. His skin was covered in sweat, his breathing coming out in shallow gasps. Hakim cradled his face, “Jafar. Jafar look at me.”

The warm brown he had grown used to was gone, dulled over. But Jafar was still alert, nodding to his voice. “I’m still here…”

Carefully, Hakim wrapped the wound and stripped Jafar of his blood-soaked shirt. He found another one within the bags, putting it on him and laying him next to the fire. There was another matter that needed his attention. 

He went to stand when Jafar caught his wrist. “Hakim...the man I fought…”

“One of the guards from Rarasin…” Hakim finished, shaking his head, “It has to be the vizier…Rest. I will be close by.”

Gently, he pulled his wrist away, laying Jafar’s hand on his chest. The younger man watched him, trying to stay awake, but his eyelids closed.

The moonlight glowed across the desert sands, the night sky littered with stars. Hakim turned back to the camp on more time before walking toward a small rock formation. It was only a few yards away, allowing him to hear anything or anyone should they approach. 

Sitting against the rocks, legs and hands bound, sat the surviving attacker. The man was without his turban, Hakim gripping his hair as he knelt in front of him. “Talk. Or I’ll make you talk.”

The other man sneered, spitting at him. Hakim brushed it off with the back of his hand, staring at it, before slapping the attacked across the face. His hand was imprinted on the other man’s cheek. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” his voice was low, threatening, “why did you come?”

“Like I would tell yo-” Hakim slapped him again, snapping the man’s head to the side. A groan escaped his lips, a line of blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. 

“You’re not marked, faces covered, and you followed us all this way. Why?”

“You ungrateful brat. I would rather die-”

“I can arrange that,” Hakim unsheathed his dagger, turning it slowly in his hand, “I can do it a number of ways. It will be quicker if you tell me what I want.”

Dragging the blade tip across the other man’s cheek, his eyes didn’t blink as the other man squirmed. Hakim applied more pressure to the tip of the blade, cutting into the cheek and the man cried out, grinding his teeth together. 

“Your answer?” Hakim hissed, cutting further down his face. 

“Fuck you.”

It would be the hard way then. 

* * *

Walking back to the site, Hakim wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. Killing the other man shouldn’t have felt like it did. It left Hakim disgusted with himself. When did he take pride in such an act? His father had taught him better, raised him and trained him to know that killing was the last option if need be. Dark thoughts like the ones that rolled around in his brain chilled him. 

His feet stopped at the edge of the fire, watching Jafar’s chest rise and fall. Some of the color had come back to his face which realized him. Settling himself at Jafar’s side, Hakim released a shaky breath. 

Overwhelmed was too simple a word to describe how he felt. The weight of the situation was building on his shoulders and he fought hard not to crack. He had to be the rock. If he broke, they wouldn’t survive. He had to be strong for himself and Jafar. But those screams, they echoed in his mind and it took everything to block them out. 

His muscles ached. The cut on his thigh throbbed. There was no part of him that didn’t scream out in pain. Time was of the essence. They needed to keep moving, in case that damn vizier sent anyone else out when his two flunkies didn’t report back. If they kept moving, they would be closer to Agrabah’s border. When they don’t arrive at the time Iago reported, he knew the prince would grow concerned. They would send out a search party for them and whisk them back to the safety of the palace walls. 

Hakim sighed tiredly. Too many “what-ifs”. The only definitive part of his plan was their need to move on from this place. 

Picking through the bags that were scattered, Hakim determined that they could only bring essentials with them. The water skin, map, the smaller items the sultan had for the prince. He tore apart bits of the clothing, small enough for travel and to cover a wound if needed. Jafar had a journal that he brought on all his trips, though Hakim winced when he saw a corner of it soaked in blood. He grabbed their turbans and was about to walk back to the fire when his eyes lingered on the body a short distance away. The first man he killed that day. 

Walking slowly toward him, Hakim took in the amount of blood that surrounded him. A wave of disgust rolled over him. It was life or death, he had no choice. But the phrase brought him no closure. He kneeled down, closing the man’s eyes with his hand. A small flash caught his eye and carefully he pushed aside the man’s clothing. The necklace reflected off the moonlight, even with the blood that covered its edges. What caught his eye was the symbol that hung from the necklace. A blood crusted phoenix shined in his hand. The symbol of Rarasin. 

Hakim tore the necklace off the man and stashed the item within his clothing. It was the proof he needed when they returned to Agrabah. 

There was no more time to waste. The moonlight shone bright enough that traveling through the night wouldn’t be as much of a challenge. It was better than dealing with the sweltering heat. Hakim walked back to the site, gathering the bag and other items for the journey. He knelt by Jafar and lightly shook his shoulder. “Jafar.”

Brown eyes looked up at him, startled for a moment before relaxing. The bags under them had grown. “Hakim…?”

“We need to leave,” He whispered, helping Jafar sit up. It was slow, the younger man groaning slightly, “We can’t stay here much longer.”

“But the horses…” Jafar trailed off, turning his head toward the animals. Hakim gently grasped his cheek and turned his head away from the sight. 

“We will have to walk.”

Jafar’s fingers curled into the fabric of his pants, shaking his head, “I don’t think I can.” He felt useless. Hakim had done so much for him already. Yet there was nothing he could do for him. 

“That is fine,” Hakim reassured, “I will carry you.”

Warmth and embarrassment flooded over him. He really was just baggage for the other man. Hakim was too good for him. 

Hakim adjusted Jafar’s turban and then his own before kneeling down in front of him, his back to Jafar. Carefully, trying his best to ignore the pain that shot through his body, Jafar wrapped his arms around Hakim’s neck. The guard’s hands hooked underneath his thighs and stood up, adjusting his feet for better traction among the sand. 

“This is ridiculous, I’m sorry…” Jafar muttered, leaning his forehead on Hakim’s back. How weak he probably looked in the other man’s eyes. There was nothing, especially now, that he could provide to Hakim. His feelings aside, he didn’t deserve to have a friend like him. 

“Don’t apologize...all that matters is that we get home,” Hakim replied smoothly, trekking through the dunes with care. One small move could cause them to slip. Every worst-case scenario ran through his mind as they walked along the sand. Hakim couldn’t afford to think that way. He wouldn’t let them die out here in this desert. 

The fear that had fueled him earlier that day morphed into determination. This journey had been trying on them, but they had pushed through. Persevered. Even when Hakim thought he had lost Jafar in that argument in their suite, he wouldn’t let the young man drift off too far. He had sworn to himself that he would watch out for Jafar. There was no other way he could show his deeper feelings. He was happy to be part of the young man’s life, even if there was nothing more than that.

They walked for hours, the sun slowly peeking over the ridge of the desert sands and moving it’s way up to the highest point in the sky. They found a shadowed cavern to rest in, sharing the water skin between them. Hakim’s arms and legs felt like they were about to fall off his body. Exhaustion was slowly creeping upon him. 

Jafar was faring no better. His breathing had become shaky, redness forming around the wound that concerned Hakim. There was an infection. How bad, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. They needed to be back at the palace as soon as possible. 

“They...have to have noticed by now right?” Jafar asked, his head leaning back against the cave wall. 

“You said that the note mentioned early afternoon?” Hakim questioned, Jafar nodding with the answer. “I would assume yes. But we need to get closer to the border. My father told me of a place.”

  
A line was drawn between Jafar’s eyebrows. “A place?”

“He told me that there is a cave that, if I don’t return from a mission or trip, that he would be the first place he looked. If we can get to that cave,” he couldn’t help the tired smile stretching across his face, “then we should be found.”

It was the mantra Hakim repeated over and over again in his head as they continue throughout the day. Each step felt like a victory, sweat rolling down his face as he dug his feet into the sand toward the top of the taller dune. Jafar forehead rested on his shoulder, the younger man passing out an hour or so ago. His short breaths brushed the base of Hakim’s neck, a shiver rolling down his spine. In any other situation, he would be thrilled that Jafar was this close to him. 

When he first noticed his gaze lingering on Jafar, he recoiled with disgust for himself. How could he think of his friend in such a manner? There was no good that could come from those sorts of feelings. Hakim locked them away to the farthest corner of his mind, that seal never breaking. It wasn’t as if Jafar would be interested. Among the palace workers, he gained the most attention from the servant girls and visiting princesses. Their eyes would study him from afar, giggling when noticed by the young messenger. A smile would grace his lips and though Hakim knew it was for show, he yearned for the flash of a simple smile in his direction. Not between companions but...something more. 

Why would Jafar be interested? There was nothing Hakim had to offer. He would be the head guard of the palace guardsman and army, but there was nothing beyond that for him. Jafar had many different avenues for himself. Working higher into the political ranks, journeying out to faraway countries, there were possibilities that Hakim couldn’t dream of obtaining. He would only chain the young man down. 

There were times he yearned for that type of freedom. The life he had as a palace guard was all he had ever known. His father didn’t give him another choice. Sometimes, he dreamed of leaving it all behind. Those were moments when the work became grueling and left him disgusted with himself. The thoughts were fleeting and out of reach. 

Standing atop the dune, Hakim lightly adjusted Jafar on his back. He was either heavier than Hakim thought or his arms were starting to give out. Jafar arms shifted, his grip tightening around his neck. His fingers brushed over Hakim’s chest. The feeling comforted him. Urged him to press on. In the distance, he could make out a familiar rock side. They were too close for him to fail now. 

The sun melted away into night when Hakim stared up the towering and familiar rock formation. He almost screamed out in relief, praying to Allah that they had finally made it. But he kept himself composed. Walking along the winding pathways, the entrance to one cave stuck out. 

“Jafar,” Hakim shook one of his legs, the resting figure on his back easing himself awake, “We made it.”

Leaving Jafar toward the front of the cave, Hakim carefully scanned the inside. It was how he remembered it when he and his father last visited years ago. Tracing his hand along the wall there was a familiar crack that almost brought him to tears. He blamed the exhaustion. 

A leftover water skin. It was deep enough in the cave that it hadn’t dried up over time. They would be able to make do with it until they were found. 

Setting down their belongings toward the back of the cave, Hakim wrapped Jafar’s arm around the back of his neck. The young man seemed dazed, though he was able to walk with Hakim to their make-shift camp spot. 

A small fire sat between the pair, sitting opposite one another. Hakim debated lighting the fire, afraid to bring unwanted attention, but its need for a short time outweighed his paranoia. 

Checking over Jafar’s wound again, his worry began to grow. The area was more inflamed than before. Lightly rubbing the area with alcohol caused Jafar to hiss, his pained groans muffled by his shirt sleeve. 

“You should rest Hakim…” Jafar insisted, noting the guard nodding off from time to time as they recovered. He didn’t want to know how long it had been since Hakim had slept. It couldn’t be healthy. Hakim’s health was the most important thing to Jafar, even in his sluggish state. His own health didn’t matter to him. Hakim was the one who needed to get back to Agrabah, not him. 

Hakim started, blinking away his blurry vision, before waving off the offer. “That’s not necessary. It’s you who should be resting.”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “You have been walking all day. You need to rest, I will be fine for a few short hours.”

Shaking his head, Hakim continued to deny the request. “No. I have stayed up longer than this before. You need all the rest you can g-”

“Why?” Jafar interrupted, frustration boiling over. Why didn’t Hakim care more about himself? Couldn’t he see that he was at his breaking point? “I have rested all day. You have carried me through this entire day and beyond. You need to rest.”

Hakim’s jaw clenched. What was Jafar thinking? He was the one with the infected seared wound on his torso. It had to be the infection, this man was being delusional. He couldn’t let Jafar stay up and watch him. What if he woke up and the other man was unresponsive? Or even worse, dead? How would he explain that to his father and the prince?

“We aren’t arguing this Jafar. It is my duty to stay up and guard you. It is what the prince asked,” he didn’t want to play that card, but he was left with no choice, “And it is what I will do until we get back to Agrabah.”

“You would be back by now if you had left me behind,” the words tumbled out of Jafar’s mouth before he thought better of it. It was the truth, even if Hakim didn’t want to hear it.

Hakim sat back, disbelief on his face. “What?”

“You would have been better off,” Jafar continued, avoiding his gaze from across the flames, “I’m just dead weight. I’ve been no help at all. You’re the o-”

In an instant, Hakim was at his side, his glare piercing Jafar. His heart jumped, taken aback by their proximity. The brown eyes that held his swirled with a myriad of emotions. “Do not say that,” Hakim’s voice shook, pausing to control himself. Did Jafar think so lowly of himself? “You are not dead weight, do not dare say that. I would have never, **_never,_** left you out there alone. Do not for a moment think I would let that happen.”

Jafar sat back in silence, nothing forming in his mind. No witty line, no teasing joke. Everything that built up within him felt like it wanted to explode. Hakim cared too much for him. It overwhelmed and burned him. “Why?” He whispered, searching the other man’s face, “Why do you care so much?”

  
The pain in Jafar’s voice knocked on the feelings Hakim had locked away. He had never heard the type of quiet desperation that left Jafar’s lips. The answer seemed obvious. Yet it was so much more. There was no way for him to describe it without ruining what they had. The idea of losing Jafar haunted him. “Why? We’re friends Jafar, that’s what friends do, don’t they?” His question sounded weak, even to his ears. 

Indifference settled over Jafar's face, the young man's lips pursing slightly. Nothing more. What was the point of entertaining the idea? It was fool’s gold. “Of course,” the small smile he mustered was strained, “that is what they d-”

The taste of iron flooded his mouth. He coughed, trying to choke it down. Something spewed past his lips, his vision blurred. Pulling back his hand, blood slide down his palm, dripping to the floor. It leaked from the corner of his lips. 

Hakim's eyes widened in horror. “Jafar!” He jumped up, running back to their lone bag and dug through it for one of their last clothes. He grabbed the water skin as well and kneeled down in front of Jafar, pressing it into his hand.

Jafar felt like his chest was rattling, coughing over and over. The burning sensation from his torso returned and nauseousness crept its way through him. The blood stopped after a few more coughs and Jafar took one sip of water before spitting it back out. The taste of iron lingered in his mouth. 

Helplessness wasn’t a feeling Hakim was used to. The troubles he usually faced had a solution, be it easy or hard. Sitting by and watching Jafar suffer brought up memories he wished to forget. 

Jafar set the water skin down and shook his head. It was as if his own body was rejected him. His fingers felt numb, which was a strange sensation. Slowly, the numbness was creeping through his body. If he rested, would he wake up feeling the same? Would he wake up at all?

It had to be now. He was alert, coherent, and able to make the choice himself. If Hakim rejected him, it would hurt. But it would be fine. He could leave Agrabah in the middle of the night, steal away on a boat to one of the kingdoms up north. Start a new life there, no emotional baggage to weigh him down. 

“Hakim…,” his tongue felt heavy, the feelings he tried to keep at bay cracking through, “The other night...I told you I felt lost this past week. Do you remember that?”

“Of course. But what does that have to do with anything?” Hakim wondered, trying to catch his eye. Jafar was avoiding his gaze.

  
His fingers curled up into the fabric of his pants. “The reason I felt lost was because of all these…” he waved his hand over his chest, unsure how to describe it, “emotions building up within me. At first, I didn’t know what they were. I was confused. But then I…,” he stopped, turning to Hakim. His eyes were warmed over with a shyness Hakim had never seen. He felt his heart rate pick up. “I realized that the feelings weren’t about a situation or something else. They were a person.

“There were about you.”

The words hung in the area. Hakim sitting back on his knees, his heart pounding ringing in his eardrums. He almost pinched himself. “Jafar...what are you trying to say?” His voice was soft but trembled. 

Jafar pressed forward, hand reaching out to Hakim. “I’m trying to say I lov-”

“Master!”

The illusion shattered. Jafar felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, red feathers bombarding his vision. Iago flew around his head, nestling itself on his shoulder and rubbing his beak along his cheek. “Master here!”

This bird was truly a demon. 

Hakim wanted to wring the bird's neck. Of all the times to come, it had to be then?

Something clicked in his brain. Iago meant Agrabah. Agrabah meant people. Which could only mean…

“Hakim!”

Four silhouettes rushed into the cave, the fire bright enough to show the relief that crossed his father’s face when he laid eyes on them. Behind him, there were other guards he recognized from around the palace. 

“Father…” He breathed, a laugh escaping his lips. He turned to Jafar, whose expression had softened as the wretch of a bird affectionately greeted him, “I told you they would come.”

“You did…”

Nu’man, his father, kneeled down and took a closer look at the two. Jafar seemed much paler than his son. “Are you hurt Jafar?”

“He was stabbed,” Hakim interrupted, Jafar shooting him a look, “I had to cauterize the wound...but I think it may be infected.”

That put Nu’man on alert. “We will make haste then.”

The group walked out of the cave together, the horses waiting patiently for them at the entrance. Hakim insisted that Jafar ride with his father, citing that his horse would make it to Agrabah faster. He would ride with one of the other guards. 

Jafar turned around before they left, his eyes reflecting the light from the moon’s rays. Hakim smiled at him. “We can talk later.” He mouthed, earning a flush from the younger man. Hesitating, Jafar nodded with a thin smile. 

Their horses took off into the night, the sand kicking up behind them as they galloped through the dunes. All the while, Hakim kept replaying the words Jafar had confessed to him. His heart skipped a beat each time they echoed in his head. 

Jafar loved him. 

* * *

Recovering took time. 

When Hakim and the other guards made it back to the palace after his father and Jafar, he was all but dragged to the physician's room. Salim, the head physician, was occupied, Hakim assumed he was taking care of Jafar. He was checked over by one of his assistants, who took down every single word he said. Down to the letter. The cut on his leg, he completely forgotten about it, was treated with a cream and wrapped tightly to avoid any further infection. The assistant put him on strict orders to rest and didn’t give Hakim the option of doing so in his own room. 

“There’s a room to the left. You can rest there, without any possible distractions.”

The moment his head landed on the pillow, he was out. There were no dreams, just an empty void that floated over him. It soothed him. The past few days had exhausted him to a point like no other. A dreamless sleep seemed natural for him. 

When he awoke, his father and the prince were talking in hushed voices with Salim by the door. He only picked up on a few words, but even they were faint. 

Relief washed over the prince’s face when he saw Hakim sitting up in bed, coming to his side and taking his hands. 

“I was so worried,” Hamed confessed, eyes shining with his natural warmth, “When you and Jafar didn’t arrive back, I feared the worst.”

The three of them discussed what transpired, Hakim, providing them details about the trip to the palace and meeting the sultan. The moment he mentioned the vizier’s name, the prince sat up, “Namir?” He asked in disbelief. “Bijan always loathed that man...why would he become vizier?”

When Hakim described the ambush and what he had found on the disguised guard, his father held out his hand with the necklace sitting on his palm. “From what it sounds like, you believe the vizier to be behind this?”

“Yes. He had the information regarding the previous ambushes, he would know how this would look.” Hakim explained cooley, keeping his anger at bay. 

Numerous times, the prince thanked him. He squeezed Hakim’s hand lightly when he brushed past the details of taking care of Jafar’s wound. “If you had not done what you did, he would not be here now.”

“Is he alright?” Hakim asked quickly, biting his tongue at the response. His father raised an eyebrow but brushed it off. 

Prince Hamed smiled. “Yes. He’s resting right now, like you. You both deserve it.”

Relief flowed through him, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding exhaling. 

As they talked, Hakim couldn’t fight back the yawn that escaped him. He tried to cover it up, but the prince was quick to notice. Prince Hamed apologized for keeping him up, instructing him to rest. 

A few days passed. Salim released him from care but instructed him to take it easy for the next few days. And to rewrap the bandage when he had the chance. As quickly as he could, he left the physician behind, along with the unsettling feeling that lingered whenever he was in that area. It had been like that for some time. He didn’t think he’d grow out of it. 

From what he understood, Jafar had been released as well. He had stopped by Jafar’s room, knocking on the door but received no response. It was odd. If there was one place Jafar was when he wasn’t with the prince, it was his room. Hakim continued his search, going up each and every corridor within the palace. The palace gardens were another place he visited but he came up empty within those as well. Frustration brewed within him. Where could he have gone?

On the verge of giving up for the day, a shadow passed overhead that caught Hakim’s attention. Looking up, a familiar bundle of red feathers circled above him. 

Maybe the bird was good for something after all. 

Iago swooped down, landing itself of Hakim’s right shoulder. “Master sees you!”  
“See’s me?” he asked, looking at his surroundings. There were no towers within the palace that were tall enough to look over the gardens “How can he see me?”

“Wants to see you!”

That made more sense. “Where would he be, if I may ask?”

“Ocean tower!”

Hakim scoffed, Iago taking off from his spot. The parrot squawked as it flew up in the sky, Hakim’s eyes following it until it disappeared over the edge of the walls. Toward the tower by the ocean. 

It was an abandoned tower, why Hakim wasn’t sure. But he remembered Jafar bringing him up to it one day years ago, boasting how it was the best spot within the palace. 

“ ‘The ocean view on one side...and the city on the other’ ,” Hakim muttered, biting back a smile. It had seemed silly at the time. Jafar’s excitement was extremely out of character for him. It was why the memory played clearly in his mind. 

Cutting through the maze of corridors, Hakim noticed fewer and fewer servants as he neared the tower. The area was beautiful, the walls lined with different symbols that weren’t present on the other walls within the palace. Why no one ventured to this area was beyond him.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, he stopped at the top of the staircase and gazed at the door at the other end of the hall. His stomach turned, nervousness settling over him. What if Jafar took back what he had tried to say in the cave? What if he didn’t even bring it up at all and expected Hakim to forget about it?

_ No use in ‘what-ifs’... _

He stopped in front of the door, his fist hesitating for a moment before knocking on the wood a few times. 

The door swung open and Jafar stood on the other side, his eyes widening briefly. His complexion looked healthier, a shade darker than normal from being out in the desert sun for as long as they had been. He was dressed in normal black outfit, the collar was undone slightly at the top. 

But it was his smile that captured Hakim. The rare, genuine smile that played shyly on Jafar’s lips. Hakim tried to hide the hitch in his breathing, heart pounding.

“Iago found you I take it?” Jafar teased, waving for him to come through. Hakim was happy to oblige, passing through the door and into the open space. The room was decorated slightly, more so then he remembered the last time they were here. A desk off to the side, stacks of books sitting along empty shelves against the wall. There was other furniture sitting off toward the window, an unrolled rug leaning in the corner

“It’s hard to miss him.” Hakim replied, gazing around the room until his eyes met Jafar’s, “Why here? I thought you would be in your room.”

“Avoiding the unwanted attention,” Jafar sighed, brow furrowed in annoyance, “I do appreciate everyone asking, but it’s becoming a bit much.”

“Are you taking over this area?” 

Nodding, Jafar looked around proudly, his hands resting on his hips. “The prince said I could use it for a study. I can’t pass that up...”

Hakim’s fingers twitched at his side, ignoring the anxiety building up within him. “Of course.”

They stood a few feet apart, silence hanging between them. Biting his bottom lip lightly, Jafar didn’t know what to do next. He wanted to talk to Hakim, but what else was there left to say? He had to have known what Jafar confessed to him in that cave. In truth, he had thought it had been some feverish dream. It wasn’t until Iago repeated his words later, sitting alone in his room, that he knew that it happened. A weight was lifted off his chest, relief rushing over him. 

Looking over Hakim, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. The older man looked as anxious as he felt. 

“What’s so funny?” Hakim asked, taking a hesitant step toward Jafar. 

“I was just..thinking if Iago interrupted again...how I wo-”

In two strides, Hakim stepped into his space. Rough hands cradled Jafar’s face, Hakim’s thumb tracing over his cheek, before leaning forward to capture Jafar’s mouth with his own. He waited too long for this. Hakim’s beard scraped along Jafar’s chin, tilting his head as he desperately took Jafar’s lips again. His hands trailed down Jafar’s body until they rested on his hips, his fingers digging into the fabric. Tugging their bodies closer, Hakim's lips tugged into a smile when a low moan left Jafar’s mouth. Their noses bumped as Jafar tilted his head down, desperation clawing inside him. His arms wrapped around Hakim’s neck, pulling him closer and clinging to the back his uniform. 

They broke part quickly, both trying to catch their breath. Hakim looked up at him through his eyelashes, the smirk growing on his lips, “If that bird interrupts us again, I’ll personally kill him.”

Jafar laughed, his chest rumbling against Hakim’s. “I made sure he was occupied.”

It was all Hakim needed to hear before bringing their lips together again. Whatever thoughts occupied Jafar’s mind floated away, Hakim’s lips rough against his own. Jafar's body felt like it was on fire. Hakim’s tongue slipped into his mouth and he couldn’t fight back the moan that passed through him, his legs almost buckling at the feeling. His senses were overwhelmed, everything firing off in an instant. 

One of Hakim’s hands tugged at the sash around Jafar’s waist and it easily came undone, falling to the floor beside them. Jafar tried the break apart but Hakim followed him, hungrily taking his lips again. His left hand quickly undid Jafar’s shirt, pushing back the collar to expose the other man’s chest. Hakim’s nails lightly dragged down Jafar’s body, memorizing every part. It felt as incredible as it looked, his skin hot to the touch. His fingers stopped just before the waistline, curling around the lower part Jafar’s back. 

Jafar broke the kiss apart, panting against Hakim’s ear as Hakim trailed kisses down his jaw, his lips brushing along his neck. Hakim’s beard scraped across his skin and he felt himself flush, his emotions spiraling. 

“Hakim...Haki-ahhhh…” he breathed, Hakim’s lips finding a spot between his neck and shoulder that left his breathless. 

Jafar brought his hands forward, cradling Hakim’s face. His brown eyes were as dark as he had ever seen, his lips parted slightly. Jafar leaned down and gently took his lips, savoring the taste of his mouth. His left hand cradled the back of Hakim's neck, the other resting on his shoulder. Their lips moved slower against each other, the desperation fading away. 

Regretfully, Hakim pulled back, his chest rising and falling. His breathing was shallow, resting his forehead on Jafar’s chest. Hands clinging to the other man’s hips, a sigh escaped him as Jafar carded his hand through his disheveled hair. 

“I didn’t expect that,” Jafar laughed lightly, his fingers toying with a few strains of Hakim’s hair. 

Hakim lifted his head up, meeting his teasing gaze, “You didn’t expect that I would kiss you?”

“I knew that,” Jafar rolled his eyes, resting his forehead on Hakim’s. “I just thought we’d talk first.”

“You talk too much.” Hakim stated matter of factly, “I would’ve interrupted you anyway.”

Jafar laughed, a sound that delighted Hakim. “You’re not wrong.”

They stood together, wrapped in each other's arm, for some time. The crashing of the waves below them the only sound breaking the silence within the room. That didn’t matter. Jafar didn’t care about anything beyond the walls they were in, just the man that looked at him like he meant something. All his turmoil washed away as they clung to one another. 

Hakim's thumb brushed something rough along Jafar’s skin and he looked down, the seared wound staring back at him. It would become a scar. Anger flashed over him. That guard, that vizier dared to try and take Jafar away him in. That mark would be a constant reminder of the terror that clung to Hakim’s heart as he watched helplessly as the dagger was thrust into Jafar.

Kneeling down, Hakim’s fingers dug into Jafar’s hips. The young man’s breath hitched above him, his hands still tangled in Hakim’s hair. “Hakim, what are you…”

Hakim’s lips gently brushed the rough skin, peppering every inch of it with soft kisses. A thrill shot through Jafar’s spine, his fingers digging into Hakim’s hair. Biting his bottom lip, Jafar couldn’t fight the shaky breath that came over him. If Hakim’s hands weren’t digging into his hips, his knees would have buckled the moment he felt the other man’s warm breath across his skin. 

Leaving one last kiss at the edge of the closed wound, Hakim slowly stood up, taking in the flush over Jafar’s cheeks. The young man’s breathing was shaky, eyes almost black as he stared at him. 

“That should change the memory of that scar,” Hakim teased, his fingers lightly tracing over it. “And I can do it again...and again...however many times you want.”

“Aren't you the romantic one,” Jafar laughed, his hands sliding down from Hakim’s hand to the front of his uniform. He tugged the fabric playfully, “Let me…”

Hakim cut him off with another kiss, pushing his tongue past Jafar’s parted lips. Jafar’s hands clung to his shoulders, an overwhelming pleasure spreading through his body. Hakim’s mouth was intoxicating, the feel of his beard against his skin exhilarating. No one ever made Jafar feel this way. He had encounters before, but nothing ever serious. This was different. The fire that burned within him as Hakim’s fingers trailed over his body, his rough lips sliding over his own, was foreign to him. It left him shaking, his heart racing with his desire to explore Hakim’s body.

“Another time,” Hakim promised, breathless against Jafar’s lips, “I want this to be for you.”

“But it’s not just m-” 

“When we were in that cave and you called yourself dead weight, I…” Hakim paused, taking a deep breath. That broken phrase echoed in his mind, haunting him. “I didn’t realize you thought so lowly of yourself. You are so much more, don’t you see?”

Jafar stared back as him, his eyes widened. Slowly, his face began to crumble. Inside, the walls he had built around himself cracked. They were his only protection. The world had hurt him too many times to allow himself to feel every single emotion. He compartmentalized, pushing everything down into the darkest parts of his soul. Even the prince, with all his kindness and love, only created small cracks in defense. 

It all came crashing down with Hakim, who’s right hand cradled the back of his neck with more care then he deserved. Jafar felt the tears rolling down his cheeks, his breath hitching before he realized what was happening. Hakim’s eyes widened in alarm, panicking as Jafar buried his face into the crook of his neck. The young man wrapped his arms tightly around Hakim’s shoulder, clinging to his back. 

“Thank you…,” his whispered against Hakim’s skin, trying to control the flood of emotions rolling over him. Every fiber of his being felt as if it was crashing. All the emotion that was pent up for so long was too much. 

Hakim, cautiously, wrapped his arms around Jafar’s chest and rubbed his hands soothingly along the young man’s back. He was at a loss of what was happening, but he would ask about it another time. Jafar always presented himself as composed, but Hakim could see beyond that facade. There was a young man, struggling to keep himself from breaking under the pressure of the political lifestyle. Walls upon walls to protect himself from the whispering words of delegates and servants alike. It made Hakim sick to think about. 

That didn’t matter now, his voice whispering into Jafar’s ear to comfort him. There was no one but them here. Two desperate people, yearning for a forbidden desire. They would be ruined if anyone found out, but for the first time in his life, Hakim didn’t care.

He had been so close to losing Jafar. When he sat there at the campsite, watching Jafar’s chest rise and fall, things slowly started to come into perspective for him. All his life, he wanted one thing. It was drilled into him by his father. To protect Agrabah at all costs. Duty was important to him, almost everything to him. But he never had the choice if that was what he wanted to do. 

No one had asked him how he wished to live his life. For a time, he was fine with that. The kingdom was his home. There had been no greater pride in him than protecting the royal family who lived within the palace walls. 

Then the prince brought this boy from the streets into the palace and everything changed. 

“Of course,” Hakim comforted in a low voice, “I’m here. Whenever you need me.”

It was a bold promise. Hakim knew this. But as Jafar tightened his grip on his back, whispering how he loved him into Hakim’s neck, warmth settled over him. If Jafar would come to him in the middle of the night, asking him to leave this place with him, he would do it in a heartbeat. Leave behind their lives and start anew in some far off kingdom. The thought excited him. 

For now, he would stay. The dutiful protector of the kingdom. 

Jafar took a deep breath to try and calm himself, pushing away from the comfort of Hakim’s neck. “I’m a fucking mess…,” he laughed, shaking his head. 

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Hakim replied, pressing his forehead against Jafar’s. “I can help with that.”

“You think so?” Jafar whispered, brushing his nose against Hakim’s. 

The stern eyes Jafar was so familiar with brimmed with warmth, his heart racing as he was lost in Hakim’s gaze. With him, he felt safe. It was all he desired. 

Hakim leaned forward to kiss the corner of Jafar’s lips, his whispered words sending a thrill through Jafar’s body. “Don’t doubt me now.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story actually tried to kill me. Truly. I stayed up til 4am to finish this and then woke up 2 hours later and rewrote the whole ending. It almost turned smutty but...I for the life of me can't write that. So you get lots of kissing and angst!
> 
> I hope everyone knows now that Iago is the devil in bird form. Th
> 
> Jafar and Hakim are the types of dudes who try to suppress their emotions like no one's business. Hakim is a bit better at it cause, you know...gotta be a guard. Jafar, and I got this from the deleted scenes of the movie, has all his emotions simmering below the surface and just waiting to explode but he's got that calm facade down pat. So I know they seem different from their movie-canon selves but hey! They're young and love each other~~
> 
> I really like exploring Hakim cause we didn't get too much of him in the movie which is sad because Numan is awesome. If we get Aladdin 2 I demand more Numan. But yeah, obviously older Hakim wouldn't let his duty falter this Hakim here, but he's younger! Not as experienced. He'll grow into that :)
> 
> And I drew what I imagined what their outfits looked like in this story! It's on my tumblr, here's a quick link -> https://quicksiluers.tumblr.com/post/187463359820/so-i-mentioned-that-i-was-gonna-post-a-pic-of-what


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